Guns For Dreams
by Morgan Weber
Summary: AU:Late 1800's Expectations were high for Elizabeth Webber when she moved West to start a new life on a cattle ranch, but she never expected to find a new love with outlaw Jason Morgan. If he lays down his guns will those hunting him let him live?
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: It's been over a year since my last story, but this one's been floating around in my head for a while and they won't go away until I write them down. It's my first alternate universe, so I just have to say I've never lived in a ranch, or Wyoming, or the late 1800's, so my knowledge of that is based upon books, TV, and the internet. I apologize to anyone in advance if you live on a ranch, or Wyoming, or are from the late 1800's and I got some facts wrong. ABC and GH please be advised I mean no copyright infringement. I simply like the characters and dislike your current use for them(as most Liason fans do). Thank you for your time in reading this and any and all comments are appreciated even if they're not all responded to.

CHAPTER ONE

Elizabeth Webber took her time looking through the materials in Benson's General Store. Her deep blue eyes took in the variations of color as her slender fingers gently slid along the fabrics, deftly deciding which would be the most practical fabric and the amount of work it would take to make a decent dress. As Mr. Benson cut and wrapped the fabric and yardage she had finally decided on she longingly perused the few art supplies that were kept in stock. There was a new cerulean blue paint she had her eye on but she knew she couldn't afford it this month.

"Miss Webber," Mr. Benson called out with a friendly smile, a slight twang still reminding people that he was originally from Mississippi, but like most folks out here he'd been bitten by the westward movement and had made it as far as the Wyoming Territory before his wagon gave out on him. Elizabeth looked up from the brushes she'd been fingering and saw the older man holding up two brown paper wrapped bundles. "Would you like me to have Joe load these in the wagon with the rest of your purchases today?" he asked. Giving the older man a grateful smile she answered, "That would be wonderful, Mr. Benson. I actually need to run an errand at the bank and then I was going to stop and see my father. Do you think everything will be loaded when I get back?"

"Sure thing, Miss Webber. I'll be sure Joe has it all ready for you," he replied with a smile and a slight touch of his hand to the brim of a hat that wasn't there. The young woman slowly made her way down the wooden raised sidewalk. She enjoyed the confusion of sounds that the business of town created. There was the background rhythm of horses hooves as they clip clopped along the dirt streets mixed with the snuffles and shouts as horses and riders alike greeted each other. The rattle of the occasional wagon or stagecoach making its way through town added a distinct change to the chorus of voices that mingled in from the sidewalks and store fronts. Yes, she did enjoy the noisy bustle of town, but mostly she enjoyed her ride out when the sometimes chaotic sounds slowly faded and were replaced by the harmonious orchestra of nature.

The sounds outside were muffled by the quiet inside the bank as the doors closed behind her. She was surprised to see that she was on the only patron of the bank until she realized that it was a Tuesday afternoon and most people in town had already done their normal banking business. "Elizabeth!" cried out a handsome man as he came out of the manager's office. The man stood at almost six feet with thick black hair that he kept cut short, dark brown eyes, and a serious face that turned suddenly warm when he smiled so genuinely at the young woman walking toward him. He wore a white dress shirt and a black vest with a gold chain looped from the top button and disappearing into his left breast pocket where it was attached to a solid gold pocket watch. Matching black dress slacks ended with black shoes that had been polished into a high shine. As manager of the First Wyoming Bank in New Charles, Wyoming Nikolas Cassadine took his appearance very seriously.

"It's so good to see you," he said warmly as he took her hands in his own and very properly placed a soft kiss on her knuckles in greeting. "Have you been to see Emily?" he asked as he gently released her hands. Elizabeth shook her head with regret. "No, that's why I came by. I'm just in town to pick up some supplies and then I have to head back so I don't have time to pay her a visit. I was hoping the two of you might accept an invitation to dinner out at the ranch this Friday evening."

"We would be delighted," Nikolas responded with a kind smile. "Wonderful," she said as she flashed him her warmest smile, "I really do wish I had more time, but Zander's expecting me back soon. I'm afraid I took a little longer at the General Store than I should have and I still need to stop by and see my father." "That's quite alright. I'll let Emily know you said hello and we'll see you for dinner on Friday," he replied understandingly. "Okay, we'll see you then," she said as she turned to leave.

As she approached the door it suddenly swung open sending a slight jingling sound through the bank as the bell announcing someone's entrance sounded. The man who walked through was dressed like every other man on the street. Every inch of his clothing carried a thin film of dust from riding along dirty trails. He wore dark brown trail boots, heavy brown pants that ended where a holster hung comfortably on his hips. His shirt had probably at one time been crisp and white, but was now a loosely hanging trail-stained tan. A dark brown hat was pulled low over his eyes and prevented most people from getting a good look at his features besides the fact that he had medium blond hair that flowed out from under the hat to just below his cheek bones.

But it wasn't what the man was wearing that caught Elizabeth's attention. The few seconds it took to walk to the open door seemed like an eternity. The way he moved and held himself exuded a confidence and determination that instantly attracted her. She felt an electricity in his presence that she'd never experienced before. He held the door open for her to walk through and quietly said, "Pardon me, ma'am," as she walked by. She glanced up to acknowledge his kindness and was struck by thoughtful eyes that were a shade of blue she could only hope to recreate on canvas. Like a patch of clear sky frozen in ice.

In the next moment the door to the bank closed and she was once again swallowed up by the commotion of the town. Elizabeth slowly made her way down and across the street toward her father's office. She felt as though she were walking through a fog as she tried to make sense of the sudden attraction she had felt towards the stranger. He was certainly handsome. There was no denying that. But there was something more, like she already knew him somehow, as if they were kindred spirits. She paused outside her father's office and breathed deeply as she tried to push her thoughts of the stranger out of her mind.

Dr. Jeffrey Webber was the only physician in town and as such he had a very busy practice. The waiting area had four plush chairs and a sofa for the sick and injured to wait their turn. Beyond the waiting room were two examining rooms that were equipped to diagnose pneumonia, set a broken arm, or deliver a baby; practically anything you'd need a doctor for. Between the two exam/operating rooms was Dr. Webber's private office furnished with a desk he'd had shipped clear from Boston and shelves stacked with the very latest journals and studies in medical science.

Today, like almost every other day, there were patients waiting to be seen. Nurse Barbara Spencer looked up from a chart on her desk as Elizabeth entered the building. "Elizabeth," she smiled at the young woman, "your Father's with someone right now, but he should be done soon."

"That's alright. Maybe you could just give him a message for me," she replied. Before she could speak any further loud popping noises that everyone recognized as gunfire came from outside. Almost immediately there were screams from people in the street and men shouting to take cover. The gunfire continued in a sporadic back and forth rhythm, each one distinctive and yet blending with the rest to create an almost continuous barrage of explosions.

Elizabeth stood rooted to the floor as she tried to make sense of what was happening. Dr. Webber opened the exam room door and when he realized everyone in the room was okay he began gathering supplies for those he knew would not be. Soon the sound of horses thundering by and receding gunfire was replaced with an ominous silence. Suddenly the door was flung open, making everyone inside jump.

Sheriff Lucas "Lucky" Spencer filled the doorway as he half-carried, half-dragged one of his deputies beside him. "Doc!" he called out even though Dr. Webber was already rushing toward him. The sight of the sheriff was a catalyst that moved people to action. They exited their building of refuge to find their own loved ones and to learn what had happened from those who had seen it firsthand.

"What's going on out there Lucky?" asked Dr. Webber as they lifted the young deputy onto the table. "The bank was robbed," he answered as he watched in shock as the doctor and his nurse tried to save the young man lying in front of him. "I think it was the Corinthos Gang. Doc Webber," the sheriff said as he suddenly sprung into motion, "you'll take good care of Brian, right? I need to form a posse and get on their trail. One of them was injured so that should slow them down."

The older man didn't even look up as he answered, "You go do your job Sheriff and I'll do mine." When Lucky headed for the door it was as if he saw Elizabeth for the first time. "Elizabeth," he gasped with concern, "are you alright?" "I'm fine," she assured him, "you should go. You don't want to lose any more time." Lucky nodded and almost ran out of the door. It wasn't long before the sound of galloping horses once more reached her ears.

It was a stunning series of events that felt as if they had taken hours when in actuality only a few minutes had passed. In a daze of conflicting thoughts she left her father and Nurse Spencer to do their best to save the young man from the bullet wound he'd been inflicted with and made her way to the general store where her wagon had been left to be loaded with supplies. Elizabeth hoped that Nikolas was okay and was reassured by those speaking on the street that the bank manager was fine and had even volunteered himself for the posse that was currently chasing the thieves down. In fact, she discovered from Lulu Spencer, the sheriff's young sister, that it had been Nikolas that fired the first gunshot and that he was certain he had injured one of the men.

"Miss Webber," Mr. Benson cried out in relief as she entered his store for the second time that day. "Oh Miss Webber I'm so glad to see you're well. When I heard the gunfire and found out the bank had been robbed I was worried about your safety. The last you said was that you were headed for the bank and when I found out what was going on I told Joe that I sure hoped you weren't anywhere near it."

Elizabeth smiled at his kind concern. "Thank you for your concern, Mr. Benson, but no, thankfully I was already at my father's office by the time of the robbery. I hope that the wagon is ready, though, and that all this excitement didn't delay the loading of my purchases. I really do want to get home as quickly as possible."

"Oh, of course Miss Webber," Mr. Benson replied, "in fact Joe had everything loaded before it all happened. The horses are tied up in back as usual. Now you be careful heading home and we'll look forward to seeing you next time."

"Thank you so much, Mr. Benson," Elizabeth said gratefully. She then left the store and found her wagon packed with supplies exactly where he had said it would be. The bulge of barrels, boxes, and bags could be seen under a white canvas that was draped across the wagon bed and tied down at the four corners. Elizabeth expertly climbed to the driver's seat, quickly felt under the bench for the rifle that was secured there, took the reins in her hands and with a soft word and almost indiscernible pressure on the reins led the two strong bays out of town.

She hadn't always been so self-confident with horses. When she had lived in New York she had preferred to walk if given the choice. Out here there was no choice. Horses were a necessity. Her family was very affluent in New York City. They attended all the parties, new all the right people and Elizabeth had never felt as if she fit in. The world they lived in and the social circles they were part of always made her feel uncomfortable. There was always the sense of awkwardness, like she just wasn't quite good enough.

Then when she was fifteen her mother died in a freak boating accident. The grief ate away at her father. Some would say he went crazy. Elizabeth said he finally found himself. The esteemed Dr. Webber suddenly sold everything in order to move West with his young daughter and become a rancher. His oldest son Stephen, who had become a doctor himself, tried to talk him out of it with no success. His oldest daughter Sarah refused to come with him and instead stayed behind and fell into the care of her maternal grandparents, Tom and Audrey Harding. Elizabeth was given the choice of staying with Sarah or following her father into the wild unknown of the untamed West and she jumped at the chance without hesitation.

When they reached New Charles, Wyoming Dr. Webber declared it to be exactly what he was looking for. The perfect blend of rolling grasslands mixed with the foothills of rugged mountain country and close to a growing town. He bought 100 acres well outside of town, built a wonderful ranch house, hired experienced ranch hands and soon discovered that as much as he loved the country he was not a rancher. Elizabeth, however, felt as though she had finally found herself.

The people she met were friendly and unassuming. She formed fast friendships with everyone, but especially dear to her was Emily Cassadine. Emily had helped her in so many ways and Elizabeth had never met anyone she felt more comfortable with than Emily. She also found she enjoyed the relative quiet of the ranch and the hard work that was required to run it. Her father decided to start a practice in town when he discovered the growing town had no resident doctor and he hired a young man by the name of Zander Smith to run the ranch.

Zander quickly realized that while his pay came from Jeffrey Webber, M.D. the heart and soul of the ranch was Elizabeth. She was smart, intuitive, and learned quickly. The two became fast friends. They respected each other and worked well together. Initially there had been rumors in town that it wouldn't be long before the two were married, but when Sheriff Spencer began calling on her those rumors were put to rest. It was a little over an hour after she had left New Charles that the horses pulled the wagon over the last rise and Elizabeth could look down into the small valley her home was nestled in.

The large two-story house faced south and she could just make out the porch and its wooden swing standing perfectly still in the mid-April sunshine. There was a large barn that housed horses, pigs, and two dairy cows along with necessary supplies. On the far side of the barn away from the house was a long rectangular building that was the living quarters for the six to eight ranch hands they employed depending on the time of the year. In between the main house and the barn was a small building that didn't look as though it had a purpose, but to Elizabeth it was one of the most important buildings.

The previous summer Zander and the other hands had been moving the herd to better pasturage and they had traveled through a deep gully to get there. Elizabeth had saddled a horse and along with a sketch pad and plenty of charcoal she had made her way to a cliff overlooking the gully. She had sketched the scene as the cattle and cowboys moved across the land as if they were one organism instead of many. Zander had come upon her as he was scouting for predators and stragglers.

Within three weeks he had built her the small shed for her to paint and draw in solitude. It contained multi-sized shelves to store her different supplies, built-in drawers for brushes and paints, specifically placed lantern holders along the walls, and a small bed for when creativity would strike her late at night. But the best thing about the studio was something you could really only appreciate from the inside. Not only was there a large eastern facing window to catch the morning sun, but he had also built a large window into the ceiling so that the room took in an incredible amount of light throughout the entire day. It was the kindest thing anyone had ever done for her and the gesture had cemented their friendship.

Chickens squawked and ran out of the way as Elizabeth drove the wagon up to the barn and finally pulled the two horses to a stop. Zander had seen her coming and rounded the corner of the barn as she used the wagon wheel to hop down to the ground. "I was about to head out and start looking for you if I didn't see you soon," Zander said as he began untying the canvas tarp from the wagon.

Elizabeth joined him in the familiar process of unloading the wagon and replied, "There was a bit of excitement in town. The bank was robbed by The Corinthos Gang. A bunch of the men formed a posse and went after them."

Zander looked at her with concern from across the wagon as they rolled the canvas up and off the supplies. "Are you okay?"

She smiled to reassure him. "I'm fine. Deputy Brian Carson got shot, though. Dad's working on him right now. I certainly hope that he makes it."

The unloading of supplies was a common ritual that they had done so many times it no longer required communication. Once Zander had removed enough barrels of flour, sugar, and salt and bags of feed for Elizabeth to climb up into the wagon bed she would move the rest to the edge and direct him as to where each should go, whether to the main house, the barn, or the cook for the hands quarters. She shifted heavy barrels towards Zander and piled small boxes next to them as the wagon slowly became less loaded down and the ground surrounding it became littered with the hurried shape of three separate piles. It was hard work and they always did it alone since most would think it was not proper work for a lady. Elizabeth loved it.

As she grabbed the edge of a burlap bag and pulled it toward the edge of the wagon bed she heard a soft thud as if something had shifted. This was not an unusual sound to hear while unloading the wagon; however the almost inaudible moan that immediately followed was very unusual. She quickly pulled the next bag out and revealed a pair of legs inside dark brown pants.

She gasped as she maneuvered another barrel out of the way to finally reveal a man lying in the bed of her wagon. He was wedged between bags of oats and some barrels of flour and he wasn't moving. "Zander!" she called in alarm as she quickly knelt beside the semi-conscious stranger. Her left hand softly braced herself from falling on him by applying slight pressure to his side as she reached her right hand out and gently pulled his face toward her. His eyes opened slightly to look at her and Elizabeth jumped back in surprise as she recognized him as the handsome stranger from the bank.

Zander had quickly jumped into the wagon at Elizabeth's cry of alarm. He looked down at the unconscious man and immediately realized what had happened. When he turned to look at Elizabeth she had gone pale and was visibly shaking. He quickly took hold of her arms to steady her, afraid that she might faint. Slowly, he looked down at what she couldn't seem to take her eyes from. He clenched his jaw tightly to keep from gasping aloud as he saw the dark red blood that covered the hand she had rested against the stranger's side.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Even though I posted these in the same night, I wrote them weeks apart from each other. For those of you paying very close attention you'll notice that I have changed the name of the Deputy that was shot in Chapter 1 from Brian Carson to Brian McCall. I'm pretty sure you awesome GH fans will see why I did this. I just wish I'd caught that I'd given him a last name already before I posted Chapter 1. Once again, these characters do not belong to me, blah de blah and all that jazz. It's just sad that in order to get our Liason "fix" we have to read and write Liason "fics". Ya'll have a great time with this chapter and let me know what you think.

CHAPTER TWO

After a short argument with Zander which she quickly won from the simple fact that he couldn't say no to her, they carried the injured man into her art studio and laid him down on the bed. "Zander you should finish unloading everything. We don't want the men coming back for supper and seeing anything out of the ordinary."

"What about all the blood? How do we explain that?" he asked her, hoping she would see the flaws in her plan. He could see from the determination in her eyes that it was pointless.

"I'll think of something," she said as she moved to start a fire in the small fireplace across from the bed.

"Elizabeth," Zander tried one more time, but she cut him off before he could say anything else.

"I will think of something," she said with steel in her voice as she stood and looked into Zander's eyes. She wasn't sure she could make him understand. "I have to try, Zander. I have to try to save him. I don't know how to explain it, but I feel a connection to this man. I don't know how or why, but something in my heart is telling me that his life is important and I need to follow my heart. I just do." As she spoke tears had welled up in her eyes with the urgency and honesty of her need to help this stranger.

Zander could no longer argue and so he made the decision to support her instead. "Okay," he said quietly as Elizabeth regained her composure. "I'll try to make sure no one asks questions and I'll be back as soon as I can."

When he left Elizabeth quickly went to work. She got the fire going, retrieved a pot, towels, cloths that would work well as bandages, and her father's traveling medical bag from the main house. Once the pot was filled with water and settled over the fire to get hot she slowed and stood next to the man lying on her bed.

His skin was pale and his breath came in shallow rasping sounds as if each breath was an effort. The wound in his right side appeared to have stopped bleeding, but Elizabeth knew that when she went to clean the wound it would probably reopen. She wanted to make him as comfortable as possible so she carefully removed his boots and worn, dirty socks from his feet and placed them at the foot of the bed. Then she gently unbuckled his belt and holster, placing it also with his boots.

She paused at the next step as her heart began to inexplicably race and her breath became labored. This is just silly, she told herself. It wasn't like she hadn't seen a man without his trousers. After all she owned a ranch and cowboys weren't the most modest bunch. She removed his pants quickly, leaving him in just his long underwear. Now it was time for his shirt and the wound.

She brought a small stool from the corner and moved it next to the bed. She then arranged all the supplies she might need within easy reach. Elizabeth wet a towel in the now hot water and began to slowly unbutton the man's shirt when suddenly his hand shot up and he grabbed her by the wrist. A small cry of surprise escaped her lips as she looked into his half-opened feverish blue eyes. "Please," she said calmly, gently, "my name is Elizabeth. I'm trying to help you. Please let go."

At first she thought her words didn't register through the fever and the pain, but then there was a flicker of recognition that passed across his face and he slowly released her wrist. When she removed his shirt the portion that had been touching his wound caused it to reopen and begin oozing blood. While she cleaned the area with warm water and alcohol she felt the hard shape of the bullet still in the wound. The sound of the door opening startled her and she turned to be sure it was Zander returning.

"Everything's put away and I cleaned up the wagon the best I could," he reassured her. She gave her friend a grateful smile and then looked worriedly at her patient.

"The bullet is still in him. I'm going to need you to hold him down while I get it out."

Zander crossed the room and knelt in front of her. "Before we do this," he said with a seriousness she had rarely seen in him, "I need to know that you understand the consequences of what we're doing. The bank was robbed and a man with a bullet wound somehow hid in a wagon that was parked not three blocks away. The implications are obvious. Elizabeth do you really want to risk everything to harbor this fugitive?"

The room was still except for the labored breathing of the unconscious man. She looked into Zander's eyes and seriously considered what he'd just said. Then she reached into her father's bag and pulled out a small scalpel and some tweezers. "Could you please hold him down?" she asked as she determinedly turned her attention back to her patient. "This is going to be painful."

She soon discovered that the steadiness of hand that was required to be a doctor was very similar to what was required to be an artist. Zander kept him immobilized as Elizabeth found and removed the small piece of metal from his side. She cleaned the wound and then sewed it shut as if she were fixing a sock with a hole in it.

Zander stood from where he'd been kneeling to hold the man down and started to leave. "If I stay in here much longer with you the men are going to start talking and that's the last thing we need," he said as he walked to the door.

"If they mention anything just tell them I'm using you as a study for a painting I'm working on." As Zander unlocked the door and turned the handle Elizabeth softly spoke again. "Thank you Zander." He nodded his acknowledgment and left her in the quiet of the studio. She quickly locked the door behind him and then started cleaning up the mess created from her emergency surgery.

She was careful to put everything back in her father's bag the way it had originally been and was replacing it in his study when the sound of an approaching horse made her heart leap into her throat. She breathed in slowly to calm herself, smoothed out the skirt of her dress, and checked herself quickly in the mirror before she walked out onto the porch to greet the visitor riding up. She breathed a soft sigh of relief when she saw that it was Emily and a welcoming smile spread across her face.

Emily Cassadine had been Emily Bowen before she married Nikolas. She was raised as a simple country girl just outside of St. Louis, Missouri. Her father was stern but kind and he loved his only child dearly. Her mother, Paige, had helped Emily to develop her kind heart and loving nature. It had devastated both of them when her father became an early casualty of the War Between the States. When her mother died just a couple of years later from a cholera outbreak Emily wasn't sure what she would do. Then she met Nikolas.

His family had owned a large plantation in Virginia when the War had started. He did what his father expected of him and joined the South in their inevitably losing battle against the much stronger North even though in his heart he hoped the North won what they were fighting for. In the end he had come home when the fighting was over to find that most of his family had either died or moved on to something else. There was no plantation left. The house had been burned by Union soldiers, the fields stripped of all the produce they had held, and anyone that was available to work it would have had to do it for free since there was no money left either. The Confederate dollar wasn't worth the paper it was printed on.

He'd only been living in St. Louis a few weeks when Emily walked into the bank he'd just started working in. It wasn't long before they were married. He had seen enough hatred and horrors in his somewhat short life to know when he saw something that was pure and good. Emily was his anchor and he was hers. Nikolas' ambitions and the sudden opportunity to manage his own branch brought them to New Charles, Wyoming. Emily had quickly made it her home and everyone had fallen in love with the beautiful young couple.

Emily swung down easily from the horse and shook out the skirt of her dress as she walked up the porch steps to Elizabeth. "I heard you were in town today during the hold up," she said with concern in her eyes as she drew closer to her friend.

"I wasn't in any danger," Elizabeth replied, trying to put her friends mind at ease. "I was more worried about Nikolas. How is he? Did they get away or did the posse catch them?"

Emily shook her head slowly as she followed Elizabeth into the house, down the hallway, and into the kitchen. She sat down at the table as Elizabeth stoked the cook stove and put a kettle on for tea. "Nikolas is fine. He's angry more than anything. I guess they lost the gang through the gulch out near South Pass." Elizabeth's back was to Emily so the young woman couldn't see her friends eyes close in relief as she quietly rejoiced that the gang hadn't been caught. Now no one would know that the entire group of thieves hadn't made their escape.

"Nikolas swears he wounded one of them, but they weren't able to find a blood trail," Emily continued as Elizabeth poured the tea and brought them each a cup to sip as they sat at the table.

"Did they get away with much?" Elizabeth asked, concerned for all the people in the surrounding areas and town that trusted their money would be safe in the bank.

"That's the interesting thing," Emily replied as she slowly sipped her tea. "Mmm, this is wonderful Elizabeth," she smiled from across her cup. Elizabeth thanked her and waited expectantly for the brunette across from her to continue. "Apparently they only took five thousand dollars." Elizabeth choked on the tea in her mouth as she tried to keep from spitting it across the table in her shock. Emily couldn't help but laugh out loud. "I'm sorry!" she cried out as peals of laughter escaped from her and made her eyes water.

"I said that wrong," she corrected as she tried to compose herself. Elizabeth coughed and then chuckled along with her friend as she regained her composure. "What I should have said is that they didn't take any local money that was being held in the bank. Apparently, the A-Z Railroad Company is going to be putting in a line that's going to run through Cheyenne. They've had some problems with robberies and so they thought it would be safer to store the money somewhere unexpected. Nikolas said the leader of the gang, I guess his name is Sonny Corinthos, he specifically asked for only the A-Z Railroad deposit."

Emily placed her now empty teacup back on its matching saucer and slowly stood. "I should be heading back to town. It's going to be dark soon and Nikolas would worry. He had to send word to the bank headquarters about the theft so he was heading to the telegraph office when I came to see you. Oh, before I forget, your father said to let you know he won't be coming home tonight. He said to tell you he'll probably be staying in town until Brian McCall is better."

"I thought he might. I'm just glad to hear Deputy McCall is still alive," Elizabeth said as she rose to follow her friend to the door. "When Lucky brought him in I wasn't sure he'd survive." Dark shadows were already stretching themselves across the landscape when the two women stood on the porch. "Maybe you should just stay here tonight, Em," Elizabeth said with concern in her voice.

"I'll be fine," Emily assured her with a smile and a quick hug.

"You're not riding back to town alone," a man's voice said sternly from the corner of the house. Zander walked quickly to Emily's horse and took the rains before she could grab them herself. A look that didn't go unnoticed by Elizabeth passed across his face before he quickly covered it up. He tipped his hat in respect to the two women he had startled and then in a more calm and gentle voice he said, "If you insist on being in your own home tonight, Miss Emily, then I'll be accompanying you there."

Emily smiled kindly at the young man with jet black hair and chocolate eyes. "That's very kind of you Zander, but utterly unnecessary."

"I beg to differ Mrs. Cassadine. It's nearly dark and there are more wild things than animals between this ranch and New Charles. I wouldn't let Miss Elizabeth go alone at night and I certainly won't let you."

Emily realized it would take longer to argue than to just give in. "Well, alright Mr. Smith. I thank you for your kindness. Elizabeth," she said as she quickly turned to her friend still standing on the porch with a soft knowing smile playing at the corners of her mouth, "I will see you on Friday evening with Nikolas and Lucky and we'll have plenty more time to visit and catch up."

Elizabeth stood on the porch steps and watched her two friends ride across the hills until they disappeared over a rise and were gone. She quickly turned back into the house and hurried to the kitchen. She was by no means a good cook. They had a cook for the ranch hands and he would also prepare dinners for Elizabeth and her father and any company they may have. He had tried to help her learn some basics, but when it came to the culinary arts she was a very slow learner. One thing she had so far been able to prepare that didn't taste like something that should have gone to the hogs was a vegetable soup. She quickly went to work preparing the ingredients, chopping up fresh vegetables and potatoes from her garden and throwing them into the boiling water. Adding a pinch of this and a dash of that from the bottled herbs that Cook required. Before long the kitchen began to take on a decidedly mouthwatering aroma.

The door to her studio squeaked slightly as she slowly pushed it open. The fire she had built up to boil the water for the stranger's bandages was now just glowing embers. She walked slowly to the counter beside her easel and set down the tray she had been carrying, being careful not to spill the steaming bowl of soup that rested upon it. She knelt down beside the fire and stoked the embers causing sparks to dance across her face. She added a couple logs and gently blew on the embers until flames licked up and began to envelop their new fuel. She was about to rise when she heard the unmistakable click of a gun hammer being pulled back and she instinctively froze where she was. "Who are you and where am I?" said a weak voice from the corner.

Elizabeth instinctively put her hands up in the air to try to show the armed man she meant him no harm as she slowly rose and turned to face him. She hadn't noticed in the dark that he was no longer lying in the bed. He stood in the dark shadows behind the door wearing only what she had left him in. She could see it was taking all the strength he had to stand up and hold the gun in his shaking hand. His hair hung across his forehead in a messy sweep and sweat pored off his face and body as the fever gripped him. "My name is Elizabeth Webber," she answered as calmly as she could, trying not to let the quiver of fear show in her voice. "You're on my ranch, about 15 miles out of New Charles, Wyoming."

"Who were those riders that just left?" he asked quickly, not sure whether he should believe the young woman standing before him.

"They were my friends. The woman's name is Emily Cassadine. The man is my ranch manager, Zander Smith. He's just making sure she gets home safe and then he'll be coming back here."

"With the Sheriff?" the feverish blonde asked accusingly.

"No," Elizabeth answered quickly. "Sir, I promise you he is not getting the Sheriff. Please, could you put the gun down? You're making me nervous and you should really be in bed."

"Why should I believe you?" he asked even as he lowered the gun and released the hammer.

Elizabeth slowly crossed the room and gently taking the .44 out of the man's hand she laid it back where she had left it beside his holster. Taking hold of his arms she led him back to the bed and he didn't resist. He had used up whatever strength he'd had and for some reason this tiny brunette had complete control over him. As she helped him back into bed and arranged the bed sheets over his now shivering form Elizabeth said in a soft, caring voice, "Because for some reason I care what happens to you. I found you bleeding to death in my wagon. Instead of immediately sending for the Sheriff, Zander and I helped you. We removed the bullet and stitched up your wound. We left your guns here by your bedside. We didn't confine you in any way. Now if I were going to turn you into the Sheriff would I have done any of that?"

The wounded man's ice blue eyes searched her face as he considered all this information through the haze of his fever. She was quiet as he found his way through the foggy haze that was currently his mind. He remembered planning the bank heist with Sonny, Max, and Milo. He remembered walking into the bank. Everything seemed to be going as planned, no, something went wrong. What had gone wrong? The manager had pulled a gun; Sonny didn't see it in time. He had jumped between them, returned fire. It had become chaos. He had taken shelter behind a wagon, realized he was wounded and climbed inside. Everything became dark after that. The bank! "I saw you at the bank," he whispered hoarsely.

"Yes," Elizabeth affirmed, "I was leaving as you were going in."

"Beautiful smile," he mumbled softly, almost to himself as his eyes began to drift closed again. "Elizabeth Webber."

Elizabeth felt a sudden flush at the realization that in those brief seconds that they had passed each other he too had noticed her. Even with the knowledge of what he was about to do and the concentration that would take, he had noticed her. Quickly she asked, "What's your name?"

His eyes were already closed and his face was flushed with fever. She felt disappointment in not having a name to match to this man. She resigned herself to waiting until he woke again. Suddenly he breathed deeply and his eyes flickered open for a moment. They locked on hers in an almost hypnotic stare that she felt she could never pull away from. "I'm Jason Morgan," he said quietly before his eyes once again closed and he fell into a deep sleep.


End file.
